


The Webs That Bind Us

by Minadora



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), SO NOW THIS HAPPENED, Spiderman AU, YOU KNOW WHAT IDK MAN I JUST - I GOT HOOEKD ON THIS AU IN A MATTER OF MINUTES, actually technically spiderman AND deadpool au, its the spider man kiss fyi, original au by twitter user emuyhn so gO LOOK AT THEIR AMAZING ART
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9512174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minadora/pseuds/Minadora
Summary: An au in which Keith is Spiderman and Lance is Deadpool because why not?Oneshot of that one iconic Spiderman kiss inspired by twitter user emuyhn's art. It's beautiful and 100% the reason I wrote this thing at all so there you go.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've said this twice already but this au was not my doing. Check out the following links for more content:
> 
> https://twitter.com/emuyhn/status/825786346652495872  
> https://twitter.com/emuyhn/status/825472879882096641 (this one makes me cry bc of how much I love Keith).
> 
> Anyways! I'm way too busy writing On Thin Ice to write another multi-chapter fic so right now, consider this the only chapter you'll get from this. (Maybe, when OTI is done and I'm feeling inspired, I'll add another one ;))))) but for now this is it). 
> 
> Thanks, y'all!

Lance certainly hadn’t intended to be cornered by a group of greasy looking men in a dark alley on his way home and yet here he is.

They slowly wind around him, blocking whatever exits Lance had spotted, so he squares his shoulders and catches the attention of the guy closest to him, blinking away the rain dripping into his eyes. “What? Is this a party?”

“I sure do like parties,” he laughs crudely, smile stretched slightly too far as he takes one small step toward Lance.

“How funny! So do I,” Lance fights the urge to take a matching step backwards and, instead, stares him dead in the eye. “Say, why don’t you be the piñata so I can beat the ever-loving crap out of you, huh?”

“Hey now,” the guy holds up his hands at Lance, offense and irritation mingling in his expression. “We were just trying to be friendly.” The remaining three scumbags inch closer with their own disgusting smiles and Lance darts his eyes between all of them, almost daring them to make the first move. _Give me an excuse,_ he thinks as the first guy deliberately reaches into his pocket. “But… If you’re going to act like this, maybe being friendly isn’t going to work.”

Lance watches the glint of metal from the knife slowly sliding into view and sighs loudly. “I’m plenty friendly - but I have some _very_ important plans for evening.” They all simultaneously take a step forward and Lance can feel his muscle tense in preparation. “So if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now.”

He barely lifts his foot from the ground before the leader of the group raises the pocket knife up under his chin. “Don’t think so, Pretty Boy.”

Lance feels the irritation prickle under his skin but he ignores it and bats his eyes at him. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Shut it,” he snaps back, the rest of them easing in closer. “Now hand over that bag of yours.”

“What happened to being friendly?” Lance tries to keep his voice joking but his gaze grows annoyed with every second. The knife presses _a little_ harder into the soft skin of his neck and he feels the first sharp nick of broken skin. “Well, then.” He sighs, slowly pulling one arm out of his backpack strap. “If you’re going to be _that_ way.”

Before any of them can react, he swings his bag over the leader’s head so the straps wind around his neck. He tugs _hard_ , knocking the pathetic excuse of a knife out of his face with his elbow, and spins the guy around so his back is flush with Lance’s chest. There’s a choked wheeze as the strap cuts off whatever airflow he had while he reaches up to bat desperately at the straps pressing into his throat. Lance chuckles, mouth close to his ear, and squeezes tighter, rewarded with another groan of discomfort.  

“Now,” Lance takes a step forward, pleased to see that the rest of them back away from him when when he does. “In case you don’t want to watch your buddy have his neck snapped in what could be the most humiliating way possible, I suggest you let me leave.” There’s a wet gurgle as the guy held against him flails again, struggling to say something. “What’s that?” Lance tilts his head as if listening and the gurgling continues. “ _Aaahh_ , alright I’ll tell them: your buddy here says that you should hand over your weapons, too. You know, as thanks for not smashing all of your faces into this nasty alley floor.” He smiles brightly and edges himself forward another foot.

They all stand there, stunned, for a few seconds - they eyes wide on their leader who is now turning an impressive shade of red. It's not until one of the remaining three seems to gather his wits and pulls a knife from his own pockets, glancing between his friends around him. “What are we doing? There’s _four_ of us and only _one_ of him!” He gestures at Lance wildly. “Let’s knock this fucker on his ass!"

“Well damn, you're practically a mathematician!” Lance says, feigning impression. “But I really _would_ suggest that yo -” The other two reveal weapons of their own, one of them pulling a small pistol from the waistband of his pants and pointing it straight at Lance’s face, effectively cutting off the end of his sentence. Lance sighs, long and tired, and shakes his head. “And here I was, thinking you guys might actually have brains somewhere in your thick heads.” He takes the straps of the backpack in one hand and reaches back with the other to the knife tucked into his back pocket. “But if this is how it has to be.”

He’s seconds away from launching the blade into the gun holder's forehead when the pistol is suddenly flying through the air and careening up to the second story of the nearby apartment buildings. The three idiots standing in front of him look towards it, giving Lance an opening to lunge. He reaches for a handful of hair from the guy on the left so he can slam his and the leader’s heads together, but suddenly they, too, are hauled away from him by an invisible force. Lance lets his own attention be pulled up in the direction of their newest guest. Perched on a literally vertical brick wall, a figure watches the three guys fall to the ground with groans of both pain and confusion before launching himself down with an easy flip.

Lance laughs under his breath, recognizing his knight in not-so-shining armour, and loosens his grip on the leader still pinned against him. _Well_ , he thinks as a smirk finds his lips. _This will be fun_.

The leader, now gasping for air and free from Lance’s hold, whirls on him with vicious anger in his eyes. He has no weapon, of course, but that doesn’t stop him from diving toward him, hands reaching for Lance’s neck. Lance doesn’t even flinch at his predictable attack and leans back against the alleyway wall with his arms folded over his chest to watch this masterpiece play out. The guy is pulled to an abrupt stop, inches from Lance’s face, and Lance resists the urge to snicker at the look of confusion in his eyes. Instead, he only raises his hand to wiggle his fingers at him before he’s careening backwards through the air to the feet of the masked man.

One of the previous three is already lying in a puddle, clearly unconscious, but the other two seem to be picking themselves up from a brief session of asskicking that Lance had (sadly) missed out on witnessing. Spidey readies himself just as one of them darts forward, knife in hand. He reaches a hand out to press against the back of the guy's head, simultaneously swiping his foot against his calves, which results in a beautiful, mid-air flip that knocks the air from the assailants lungs with an audible _whoosh_. He offers him quick kick to the head, knocking him out, in time to catch the next of them by the shirt collar and literally spinning him face first into the brick wall. He falls with a dramatic flop which Spidey sidesteps easily, hands held up as water splashed up at him. The last of the bunch, the leader, has now hauled himself to his feet despite looking like he might fall back over at any second. It only takes one swift punch in the nose to knock this guy out but Spidey catches him by the shirt anyways and hauls his unconscious body into the air to sneer in his face.

 _Sneer_?

“Wait a second,” Lance says out loud.

 _Is he not wearing a mask_?

Spidey seems to realize his slip up at the exact same moment and quickly drops the leader like a sack of potatoes to retreat up the alley walls, disappearing into the shadows in seconds.

“Hey!” Lance steps forward, shielding his eyes from the rain to look up towards at the roof. “Isn’t it a little _rude_ to leave such a handsome guy like me out in the rain without even saying goodbye?” He receives only silence as a response, the hush of rainfall filling the space around him instead. He looks to the bodies lying around him with a heavy sigh and a dramatic wave of his arms. “And you’re just gonna leave me with this mess?"

There’s the sharp sound of small, whirring gears as a figure slides into Lance’s peripheral vision. He turns to find Spidey, now masked, hanging upside down from the rooftops with water dripping from his soaked suit. “You could have helped me, you know.” He sounds annoyed but Lance knows better, catching the small smile he knows Spidey can’t suppress. “I already know you can fight - backpack man is proof of that - so there’s no point in acting like the damsel in distress here.”

“Firstly: ‘Backpack man’?” He teases with a sly grin which is very much ignored by his saviour. “Secondly: if I had helped, I wouldn’t have been able to oggle you the whole time,” Lance waggles his eyebrows at him and, even with the mask on, he can tell he’s rolled his eyes. He takes a step toward him, hands shoved into his pockets to guard against the bite of the damp air, and drops his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Thirdly: Spidey, your ass looks fantastic in that spandex. Nice choice of fabric.”

There’s a scoff beneath the mask, indignant and disbelieving. “I just saved your ass,” Spidey tilts his head, the movement strange when he’s upside down, but Lance is fixated on the small droplet of water clinging to the end of his nose, moments away from dropping. “A little thanks would be nice."

Lance bows dramatically, one hand held behind him and the other pressed to his chest. “Oh brave Spiderman!” There’s another louder, more annoyed, scoff above his head but Lance continues, peaking up to stare at the masked face from the corner of his eye. “Thou hast saveth me and for that I oweth you my life….. eth.”

“You are _unbelievable_ ,” Spidey shakes his head as Lance straightens up with a grin.

He shrugs and inches one step closer. “It’s been said before.”

A silence settles between them as Lance’s words hang in the air. The rumble of cars out on the main road surrounds them, mixing with the soft pattering of rain that still insists on falling. He’s cold, and wet, but he can feel the hot puff of breath coming from beneath Spidey’s mask spread against his cheek and he… doesn’t want to leave. Not just yet.

 

“How did you even find me, by the way?” Lance asks with a frown, eyes softer and less teasing than they were a few seconds earlier.

Keith pauses and searches for an answer that’s even marginally as witty as what Lance can come up with. “I was… in the area.”

“Oh, really? Because it sure does look like you’re stalking me.” There’s that signature quirk of his eyebrow that Keith (unfortunately) knows far too well. 

“I’m not - !” Lance lets out a bark of laughter, cutting of Keith’s protests, and ducks his head to look up at him with hooded eyes. Keith huffs out a sigh, thankful his mask hides the heat flushing across his cheekbones, and continues on. “Whatever - I’m out of here.” He pulls himself up a few inches and Lance snaps his head up, hand reaching out to stop him.

“Hold up,” his fingers only barely catch ahold of the fabric on Keith’s shoulder and, although he could easily pull away, he lets himself be guided back down to Lance’s eye level. “I didn’t even get to thank you.”

The edge that usual coats his words has faded, replaced with an authenticity that Keith is not familiar with - especially not from Lance. It takes him off guard and he finds himself staring dumbly into the boy’s eyes, his features still somehow just as beautiful flipped upside down. He can’t say anything - well, doesn’t _know_ what to say - so he only watches Lance’s gaze darted across the plains of his masked face.

“Can I?” A heavy pause. “Say thank you?”

It takes less than a second for Keith to realize what he means, his face now imperceptibly closer than it was before, and it makes a bubble of hesitation pop in his chest.

“Wait.”

He says it -- but he doesn’t mean it. And they both know it.

Tentative and gentle, Lance raises his hands until his fingers barely graze his throat where Keith is sure he can feel his pulse skip. His movements are slow, ridiculously slow, and the heavy feelings in Keith’s chest practically ache by the time his mask is pulled over his chin. Lance’s knuckles bump over Keith’s lips as he maneuvers the fabric past them and onto his nose, Lance’s eyes taking in every patch of bare skin that is revealed to him. Keith would be lying if he said his lips didn’t buzz from the brief contact but something tells him Lance knows this, his fingers ghosting over them again as they find their place back against his jaw. Keith’s breath heaves through him, heartbeat ragged against his ribcage, and even Lance’s breath seems to hiccup in anticipation.

 

He should stop him, right? He shouldn’t let him lean in this close? This is dangerous. Keith is aware of that and Lance must be, too. They shouldn’t do this. They should stop.

 

They don’t.

 

It’s soft. Much softer than Keith had imagined it would be. He had imagined so many different scenarios, late in the evening when his mind got the better of him and wandered to places he tried to ignore. They were all far more passion fuelled, far more desperate than this. Although, Keith can’t say he’s disappointed by the gentle press of Lance’s lips against his own or the earthy tang of rainwater that glides across his tongue, especially when Lance’s hand slides to the back of his neck to grip at the ends of his hair. He lets Lance guide his jaw slightly to the side and deepen the kiss for a fraction of the second, a fraction that he relishes in, but then the rational side of his brain is screaming at him about all the thousands of ways this could go wrong.

And he’s pulling away.

Not enough to completely separate from each other, but enough for Lance to catch on. Of course, he doesn’t let him go so easily and catches his bottom lip lightly between his teeth to tug at it insistently, nearly pulling a soft moan from Keith’s chest.

When he finally lets go, nose pressed against Keith’s chin, he slowly rolls the mask back over his lips and down his neck with a soft, breathy laugh. Every movement is purposefully slow, like he wants to extend the agony as long as he can manage, but there’s no stopping the inevitable. Eventually, the mask is in place and Lance leans back to display a bold grin that’s half delirious and half smug, his fingers sliding at last from the sensitive skin of his neck to leave Keith with a painful desire for _more_.

Before he can satiate that incredibly stupid desire and before Lance can make some equally stupid comment that will break whatever resolve Keith has left, he drags himself up and away from the dirty alleyway. He’s on the rooftops within seconds, leaving Lance to stare up after him with an incredulous look plastered across his face. He fully expects him to make some sort of snarky remark, something he's grown used to hearing from him, but he doesn’t. He only laughs once, quietly and under his breath, before swiping a hand through his soaked hair. The wet clack of his shoes against the pavement drifts up to Keith as he watches him go, his heartbeat finally slowing to a somewhat normal rate, and even after he’s ducked around the corner, out of sight.

There comes a point where he realizes he should probably head out, go home, do homework - something _normal_ people do - instead of stand, completely drenched on a rooftop of an apartment he doesn’t even live in. Although it’s hard to behave normally when your life is so incredibly _not normal_ like his is.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks @emu for ruining my life with this bc it's all i'll be thinking about for days to come  
> also how the hell as i supposed to end this??? I WASN'T EVEN SUPPOSED TO WRITE IT IN THE FIRST PLACE.
> 
> find me on twitter @minadoraa and tumblr as wardenalistair


End file.
